


Beginning in the Mind

by sarcasticsra



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Meme of Interest, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticsra/pseuds/sarcasticsra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The possession of anything begins in the mind."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginning in the Mind

**Author's Note:**

> And the _actual_ fill for the meme_of_interest prompt. Thanks for the beta, Kat!

His boss gives him an unimpressed look the second he walks into the underground safe house. Anthony shrugs and tries to look innocent, which never actually works for him, but it’s worth a shot.

“You should still be in the hospital,” Elias says.

“I was in the hospital for three days,” Anthony answers. Two days longer than necessary, in his opinion. He’s had to put himself back together plenty of times. He’s used to it.

“Yes, and I happen to know that they wanted you to stay at least a week.” 

Anthony isn’t surprised that he knows. Though, admittedly, he is still a little surprised that Elias let him check himself out in the first place. “I’ve got better things to do than lay around in a bed all day.”

Elias’ expression is stern. “You’re not much use to me if you pass out from pain or complications.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll take it easy.”

Elias sighs and waves him over, so Anthony moves within arm’s reach and stands still while his boss obviously inspects him. He gently brushes a hand over his stomach, and Anthony is sure he can feel the bandages. “Didn’t we have a talk about taking better care of yourself?” Elias asks him. His hand moves to his shoulder and then the back of his neck, pulling him in so their foreheads meet.

Anthony smiles, crooked. “Didn’t we decide you do a better job of that for me?”

“Stubborn,” he says, almost fondly, and kisses him soundly before pulling away. “Come on. I’ve made us something to eat.” He tugs him over to a table that is out of place in the stark basement, almost overflowing with fine food and wine. It’s set for two.

“You cook, boss?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he says, smirking. 

Anthony grins. “You knew I’d show up tonight.”

“Did I have an inkling that you would foolishly check yourself out of the hospital the instant you were able? Yes, the thought did cross my mind,” he says, dry.

“Takes more than a few bullets to keep me down.”

“Fortunately for me,” Elias says. “Now sit. Eat. We have a lot of catching up to do. Things are changing in very interesting ways. It’s time we discussed them.”

Anthony smirks and sits down at the table. He fucking loves his job.

\---

Elias glances around the bar, satisfied. It’s a nice bar, and its owners were easy enough to buy, but not _too_ easy—he’s confident that they’ll be his for some time. That it’s a gay bar means many of his competitors will shy away from it, and that’s not only an advantage, but it makes him smile. Using people’s irrational behavior against them is not just poetic, in his mind—it’s fun.

He thinks everything is well set up, enough that they can leave, so he looks for Anthony, spotting him a second later at the bar. The bartender—Angelo—appears to be paying him special attention; Anthony himself looks amused.

Elias shakes his head. It’s understandable, of course; he can’t deny that Anthony is an attractive man, and people are bound to notice. Sometimes he simply needs to show them where the lines are. 

He walks over, and as soon as he’s close enough to the bar, Anthony’s focus is on him. “Ready to go, boss?”

Angelo looks put out. “Leaving so soon? You didn’t even touch your drink.”

“Sorry. On the job.” Anthony’s smirk is not just amused now—there’s an edge to it. He’s waiting. There’s something about that smirk, lethally sharp, that always gets to him, aided by the fact that he’s had the pleasure of seeing him wearing it and nothing else. If he were a man of lesser willpower, Anthony would right now find himself on the receiving end of exactly what he’s waiting for. 

Unfortunately for him, he’s going have to keep waiting, and he lets him know that with a look. Anthony’s returning look is full of hunger. 

“You can’t let him have a little fun?” Angelo asks, reminding him of his presence, almost like an annoying gnat to be swatted. Elias can see that question is directed at him, even while Angelo leers obviously at Anthony.

“Angelo, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stop,” Elias says, calmly. “Anthony is not available for anything you might want to offer him. You’ll leave him alone from now on.”

Angelo actually rolls his eyes. It’s interesting to Elias, the things that people think they can get away with. “What, he can’t handle a guy flirting with him?” 

“Not quite. Let me put it another way,” Elias says, leaning in, and he smiles. It’s not a comforting smile. “I don’t share. Is that understood?”

Angelo blanches, and he actually takes a step back. “You mean—uh, shit, sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t know.”

“And now you do.” He smiles again. “Let’s go, Anthony.”

They leave the bar. Anthony looks like the cat who ate the canary, and Elias raises his eyebrows. “You seem pleased with yourself.”

“I’m trying to decide if there’ll be enough room in the car for what I want to do.”

Elias stops and turns to him, giving him a serious look. “I think we’ll make room.”

\---

“You could come work for me,” Rick says, and Anthony has to try really hard not to laugh out loud. They’ve done three deals with this guy, and this is the third time he’s asked. Apparently he can’t take no for an answer.

“I’ve got a job, remember?” he says, and finishes inspecting the documents. It’s all quality, professional, which isn’t surprising, if a little disappointing—he would’ve liked to shoot this guy. 

“I could give you a better job,” Rick insists, and this is a new angle. “You wouldn’t be anyone’s lackey. You could run your own operation.”

Anthony cocks his head, feigning interest. “What, under your umbrella?”

“Exactly!” He grins. “What do you say?”

Anthony’s phone rings. It’s his boss, of course, and he smirks. “Just a second,” he says, and answers the call.

“He asked you again?”

“Of course,” he says, and tries not to smile. He’s not surprised that he already knows.

Elias sighs heavily. “And after I had that talk with him…” That _is_ a surprise, and just makes him want to shoot Rick even more. Ignoring him is one thing. Ignoring his boss is another. “I think I’d like to speak to him again. Could you please put him on the phone?”

This is going to be good. “Absolutely.” He holds out his phone. “My boss wants to talk to you.” He puts a slight emphasis on _my boss_. 

Rick frowns but takes the phone. Based on the way he’s rapidly paling, Anthony can guess what Elias is saying to him; still, he hopes he’ll tell him later. The conversation is fairly short, and ends with Rick going, “Yes, I understand, yes, of course.” He hangs up, nervously handing it back, and says, swallowing, “He told me to tell you that you’re not allowed to shoot me yet.”

Anthony sighs. “But?”

“But, uh, if I ask you to come work for me again, he promises you can.”

“See, that’s why I wouldn’t consider leaving.” He smiles, sharklike. “He gets me.”

Rick swallows again. “I _would_ like to offer you a twenty percent discount,” he says, and hands back a portion of the money. “Pleasure doing business with you!” he practically squeaks, and leaves so quickly that Anthony half-expects a trail of dust to follow him to his car.

He counts the money and puts it in the briefcase with the documents before he leaves, whistling.

\---

“Harold, I believe I owe you an apology,” Elias says into the phone. He’s got his chess set splayed out in front of him, and he’s been toying with the black rook for several minutes, thoughtful.

Harold stops in the middle of the angry accusation he’s been delivering in that calm, precise manner of his—it’s a manner Elias has enormous respect for—and says, “Excuse me?”

“Not for this,” he says, almost rueful, and sets the rook down, picking up the king for inspection. “A leopard will never apologize for his spots, you understand. I meant for my various attempts to lure John away from you—I’ve suffered a series of aggravations recently that have brought to my attention just how irritating that can be. It was untoward, and I apologize.”

He imagines Harold sitting back in his chair, straightening his glasses, mind mapping out the various meanings for this and the appropriate matching responses—another thing he has respect for, the ability to consider multiple angles and quickly settle on a solution. “Yes,” he says at last, and Elias beams; of course he settled on the right one. “It was. Thank you for your apology; you’ll understand if I don’t accept it.”

“I do,” he says, nodding. He replaces the king. “I wouldn’t either.” He wouldn’t—crossing that boundary without knowing it’s there is one thing. Doing so with that knowledge is quite another. He’s sure Harold agrees.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” Harold says, and Elias can hear the tired edge to his tone.

“Come now, Harold,” he says. “Are you really still pretending we’re all that different?” It’s a funny facet of human nature, he thinks, the lengths one’s mind will go to avoid accepting one’s own ruthlessness. He taps one of the pawns with his finger and frowns, shaking his head.

“No.” There it is: the steel underneath the mild-mannered façade. “Now shall we get back to the actual reason for this phone call?”

Elias smiles and takes the knight off the board. “Go right ahead.”

\---

No one’s ever gotten up the balls to ask, but if they did, Anthony would tell them: he’s not just attracted to his boss’s power.

Sure, that’s a part of it, but it’s more than that—it’s the _intent_ behind that power, the drive to wield it as a weapon. It’s the way he can take what for anyone else would be an ordinary deal and turn it into a two-million-dollar coup. That’s not just power. That’s ability.

Anthony grins and leans against the table, obviously a display, and he’s sure his boss notices. “That was impressive.”

“I do pride myself on seeing opportunities that others miss,” Elias says, smirking and moving in, until they’re barely a centimeter apart. He rests a hand on Anthony’s hip, thumb idly stroking back and forth. “Though I have to admit, I’m beginning to think you’re just easily impressed.”

“Am I?” Anthony laughs.

“I count myself lucky for that fact,” Elias says, gaze tracking over his throat, his chest. He closes in slowly and kisses him the same way—drawn out, languid, taking his time. Anthony finds himself pinned against the table, both his boss’s hands firm on his hips, and he groans.

“I think it’s a pretty specific fact,” Anthony says, shifting against him, and he’s rewarded with a very intense look, dark and hot and exclusively for him.

“Specific to me, is it?” he asks.

“You know it, boss.”

He loves the smile he gets in return, full of predatory, wicked promises, and Elias follows it up by moving his mouth to his ear, murmuring quietly, “I think I’m going to take my time with you tonight. I’d like to have you slowly, until you’re pliant and needy and so turned on that you can barely speak. It’s been a while since I’ve had you like that. Do you have any objections, Anthony?”

He’s already hard, and he knows that’s obvious. “None that I can think of.”

“Excellent.”

He does exactly as he says he would: he takes his time, methodically stripping Anthony, all his touches teasing at best. By the time he’s on his hands and knees and Elias’s cock is buried inside him, Anthony’s shaking with need, voice hoarse

“More,” he rasps, and the grip on his hips gets tighter.

“You really should see yourself right now,” he says, and thrusts once, hard. Anthony shudders. “Now this, Anthony? This is truly impressive.”

“ _Boss_ ,” he growls, and then he’s being fucked steadily, and that’s enough to knock out anything but his ability to feel _really fucking good_ , his groans only getting louder and louder.

“You really are mine, aren’t you, Anthony?” his boss asks, tone breathless but still full of that intent that Anthony can never get enough of. There’s a hand on his cock a second later, and Anthony’s so far gone it takes barely two strokes before he’s coming with a shout. Elias takes his time finishing, fucking him through his orgasm, and Anthony gasps and grips onto the sheet with enough force that he’s surprised he doesn’t do damage.

When his boss comes, Anthony feels more than hears his groan, and he’s still gasping when he moves off of him. He can feel that gaze on him, that intensity, and he smiles to himself before rolling over. “You already know the answer to that question.”

“Do I?” he asks, deceptively mild.

“I’m all yours, boss.”

Elias smiles, still predatory, and Anthony grins.


End file.
